Hoofbeats
by BBBKA
Summary: They've been trained to expect the unexpected, but nobody likes surprises.


_"When you hear hoofbeats behind you, don't expect to see a zebra." - anonymous_

The anguished howl ripped through the still night air, dwindling away to near-silence before renewing itself.

"Ah, God, no!" the man's voice wailed.

The men of Station 51 whirled as one, ready to help their fallen comrade. Paramedic Roy DeSoto dove toward the crawlspace, shouting for his partner. "Johnny! Johnny, are you all right?"

Suddenly, DeSoto was scrambling backwards, away from the opening, flinging both hands up to cover his horrified face.

"Roy, what is it? Is he – oh, my God!" Captain Hank Stanley recoiled as he, too, realized what had happened to his newest recruit, still confined in the crawlspace under the house. "Stay back!" He ordered the other men under his command.

It had all started simply enough about twenty minutes earlier. An odor investigation. The elderly homeowner was certain that she smelled gas leaking somewhere and wanted the fire department to investigate. They had combed through every inch of the house and surroundings, trying to track down the source of the odd smell, but with no luck.

Afterward, no one could remember just who suggested that the leak might be coming from somewhere under the house or who came up with the bright idea of sending one of them into the crawlspace to check it out.

John Gage was the skinniest on the department, as well as the biggest risk-taker, which made him the perfect candidate for the job. He had quickly shimmied through the small crawlspace opening with a flashlight and reported back that there was nothing leaking under the house – although he observed that the oddly familiar smell was stronger where he was. The men turned back toward their vehicles as Gage began squirming backward toward the entrance.

Then he screamed. As the men watched, his feet appeared and then the rest of him. He lay face-down on the ground, gagging and rubbing his face against the grass.

"So," Roy ventured; "Skunk's still in there, huh?"

Gage retched.

"Roy . . ." Stanley gestured helplessly toward the dark-haired young man. "Can't you—"

"I'm not getting near him," Roy said. To his partner, he called out, "Johnny, try to get up and move away from the crawlspace. You don't want your new friend to follow you out and spray you again."

"Should we hose him down?" Stanley wondered.

"Won't really help. Water alone isn't going to do anything about the smell. Do we have any tomato juice back at the station?"

"Yeah, a couple cans."

By this time, Gage was sitting up. "Thanks for all the help, fellas," he coughed.

"What I can't figure out," Roy went on as though his partner hadn't spoken, "is how we're going to get him back to the station. I don't want him in the squad smelling like that."

"We don't want him with us either, Roy," Stanley said.

Glaring at both of them, Gage staggered over to the green garden hose attached to the side of the house. He cranked it on and stuck his head under the flow, rinsing his eyes and mouth and even aiming the stream of water up his nose until Roy started to worry that his friend was about to drown himself.

"Careful, Johnny," he warned.

"Bleargh!" Gage gasped. "I want a shower! Oh, man . . . the smell!"

Roy stifled a grin. "Yeah, we can smell you from here. You may have to burn that uniform, you know."

"Gladly." Gage turned off the water and shook his head like a dog. He rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand and took a step toward Roy and Captain Stanley.

Both men stepped back.

"Whoa there, John," Stanley said, holding up a hand.

"Oh, come on! You guys can't just leave me here!"

"Well . . . "

"Roy!"

"Cap, could he ride on the engine, on the back? Where there's lots of fresh air?"

"I don't know; I really don't want the smell seeping into the hoses."

Gage gaped at them in disbelief. "You're kidding, right?" He demanded. "That _could_ have been a gas leak, or . . . a snake or. . . a cougar or . . ."

"Snakes and cougars don't stink, Johnny."

"The point is that I'm the one who went in there, and I'm the one who took the risk! Yeah, sure, it was just a skunk and you guys all think it's so funny, but you wouldn't be laughing if it really _had_ been something dangerous. Roy –"

"Take it easy, Junior," the senior paramedic soothed, stepping forward to put a hand on Gage's shoulder. "We're just having some fun with you. Let's get you back to the station so you can get cleaned up."

"I don't have to ride out on the back?"

"Nah. We're keeping the widows open, though."

Roy wrapped a blanket around him before allowing him in the vehicle. Johnny sat as close to the door as he could, still looking miserable and a little bit angry.

"I can't believe you guys think it's funny," he grumbled

"Come on, you've got to admit it's a little bit funny. Do you mean to tell me you wouldn't be laughing if I got skunked?"

"Only after I made sure you were all right."

"Fair enough." Roy sobered quickly, glancing sideways at his unhappy partner. "I'm sorry, okay? It's just – never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing." It was Roy's turn to become sullen, and the trip back to the station became a silent one, with both men shooting annoyed glances at each other. It wasn't until the squad was parked in its usual spot that Roy finally spoke.

"John, I think you scared about ten years off my life back there," he said quietly. "I've never heard you scream like that – and we both know you've had reason to yell plenty of times. I thought . . . I thought you might be . . . Jesus, Johnny, you didn't sound like that any of the times you've been hurt. I've never been as relieved as I was when I realized it was just a skunk."

"I didn't mean to scare you."

'Well, you did."

Gage thought about it and then grinned. "Awww, you care," he chuckled. "Thanks, _Dad_."

"Shut up and get out. We'll never get the stench out of the upholstery as it is."

Gage gave him a quick, mocking salute and hopped out. Roy stayed behind the wheel for another long moment until he was sure he was alone; then he slowly let go of the steering wheel and lifted his trembling hands to his face. He took several deep breaths before stepping out of the squad and heading for the kitchen in search of tomato juice.

_Author's Note: This story is based on a real call that my husband's department actually went on, when the guys were all so focused on finding the gas leak that none of them realized they were actually smelling a skunk – until the little newbie got blasted with a faceful of skunk spray. Nobody wanted to let him ride in the fire truck or personal vehicles, and they all drove off and left him there until they finally found someone willing to go back for him with a four-wheeler._


End file.
